An Unspoken Word
by aliencatt
Summary: There are some words that are never spoken. There is one word that Sam can never bring himself to say. FAO...WINCEST...dark fic. Read at your own risk. follow up to..'A Forgotten Word'


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a fan.

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SAM/DEAN

set in season three, immediatly after, **"A Forgotten Word",** but can be read seperatly.

**WARNING**...Coercion...incest...**Read at your own Risk**

**A/N**... Thankyou for reading this, and hopefully the previous 'word'. I know they are a little 'dark' and not to some peoples tastes. if you like, please let me know, if not...please let me know why.

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He just watched him from across the room. He knew Dean was crying and desperately trying to hide the fact. He knew that he should go to him, that he should comfort him but he also knew it was because of him.

Sam had never wanted to hurt his brother, still would tear the world apart if it meant that he was protecting Dean from any danger or threat except in this one thing. Sam had a compulsion. Not to hurt Dean, that was just an unfortunate side effect, but Sam needed to immerse himself so deeply in his brother, in thought and deed that he ceased to comprehend just how egger, adamant, just how violent he could become.

The rational part of Sam acknowledged that he was doing harm and not just physically. He was torturing his brother, the one person who he knew would not complain, would not turn him away. Dean was the only person that loved him, cared for him, was willing to die for him and knowing that that was a distinct possibility, if not probability, Sam had to hold him, feel him, touch him. He had to have him and when he did, he needed to feel everything. The more he felt that Dean was to be gone, the more he had to hold on, had to feel him and that lead to the violence.

Sam was abusing his brother. If it had been anyone else he would have killed them, no doubt about it. But he could not help himself. He knew that that was a well worn defence used by people who did indefensible things to their fellow human beings but it never the less was true. The rage he had felt building from the day Dean had brought him back had continued to grow long after the opening of the gate, long after they had hunted down and sent many of the escapees back to Hell. It continued to grow, he knew it and there was no doubting that so did his brother.

Dean had always been there for him, it was without question, but sat here, staring at the sprawled form, it amazed Sam that they had come to this, that he himself wanted Dean to be so submissive and, more so, that Dean allowed it.

He did not understand why. He remembered overhearing the yellow eyed daemon tell Dean about his part in their family. It had spoken the truth, no doubting that, and what's more, Dean knew it too, probably had for years without admitting it even to himself. Anyone that remotely knew them, very few in number, knew that Dean lived for Sam and only Sam.

And what did Sam do? He returned that devotion by leaving his older, and in many ways stronger, brother, discarded on a bed, used and crying himself to sleep.

Sam dropped his head into hands and wanted to weep himself, he tried even, but he was dry, arid and incapable. He could not cry for this, not for doing what he was driven to do, what he craved and he knew himself well enough to know that, when Dean cried out in pain of his inflicting, it made him cum all the harder. It turned Sam on big time.

He straightened up in the chair also knowing that Dean would have a limit, though he had not pushed him to it yet. Sam had to make sure that he gave enough of what his brother craved or one day he would indeed turn him away or leave. At that thought he felt it again, the compulsion to hold on as tightly as he could, to be as close to Dean as possible. To capture his brother's body and very essence, to hold it prisoner for as long as he could before he had to give him up.

That, Sam often wondered, might be at the core of his change in attitude towards his lover, for he had been for so many years now, he knew he was going to lose him soon and wanted to be able to feel him for as long as possible afterwards. He could just not get enough of him and he had come to the realisation that under it all, Dean had always been submissive, both to their father's will and to him and he had taken everything Dean had been willing to give and would take more. Sam knew he was bastard enough to take it all, to use Dean up and found that he liked doing it.

Slowly standing up, Sam moved towards the prone figure which was still now but by his breathing, awake and very aware of his proximity. Dean always knew where he was, it was mutual. In pitch blackness each would know exactly where the other stood.

Stripping down to skin, Sam slowly crawled onto the bed to lie full out, facing his brother, stilling the feeling inside as he sensed Dean's unease. He had to control himself, had to spend time pandering to his brother's 'needs'. They were pathetically few so the least he could do was 'throw him a bone' occasionally as it were.

Lightly, Sam ran his fingertips across Dean's shoulders and up into his hair. The immediacy of the response was pathetic, he found himself thinking and had to reprimand himself. At any other time, in any other situation, he never treated Dean in such a way. In the hunt, in the car, even shopping or doing laundry their relationship was so different to when he felt that spark, that urge he had to ignite and Dean had to extinguish. They never spoke of it during or afterwards. It was as if they both became different people, personalities that their everyday personas knew nothing of.

He continued to play in the short hair, noting the held breath, the tenseness of the body next to him. Slowly he ran the same fingers over his brother's neck and down along the spine to press lightly in the centre of his back. Sam watched them as they moved from side to side, passing along the top of Dean's buttocks, outlining the smooth perfect mounds.

Dean could weep afresh but now for the sweetness of that touch in the hollow of his back and turned his head towards Sam, still lying flat on the bed but looking at him beseeching, longing. Please don't be a lie. Please let Sam be tender towards him, to show him he cared for him as a person and not just as a fuck toy, if only for a little while.

Dean's whole soul cried out silently, please, kiss me, hold me, love me. He knew he was pathetic, but that's all he wanted. Dean wanted his brother to love him, nothing more. That was everything.

Thinking about delving between the cheeks, Sam stopped himself and gently but firmly pushed at Dean's nearest hip encouraging him onto his side. Dean rolled back immediately and Sam squirmed forwards to place the length of his body against the other shorter but sturdier frame. Fingers on Dean's jaw, he tilted his face up and closed the gap, placing a soft chaste kiss to the parted waiting lips.

Another kiss, slow and innocent and he felt Dean almost melt onto him. Sam intensified the pressure slowly until, lips moving on lips, their tongues joined in a steady 'waltz'. He knew that, right now, Dean would 'allow' him to do anything he wanted to him. It was the way he was pushed up against Sam, rocking into him ever so slightly but not enough to appear in any way demanding. His free hand was placed lightly on top of Sam's hip and he was growing in response to the intimacy. Dean must be exhausted surely after his night with the woman then paying his due for it but now he was so eager for his brother's gentle touch.

Quickly, as Sam felt resentment rise thinking of Dean's unfaithfulness, he broke away from the kiss, loving the barely audible anguished moan and sliding his hand up to cover the side of Dean's face. His long fingers clutching the back of his head, he rolled backwards, pulling Dean with him, on top of him.

His brother raised himself up on taut arms and looking down at him, Sam saw so much in those eyes, the two dominant attitudes a questioning, as Dean's eyes searched his own, moving rapidly as if trying to take in all the possibilities and over riding it all, he saw love. Sam bit his own bottom lip, a moment of emotion slipping through and Dean smiled. He must have found the answer as he bent to kiss him passionately, his hardening prick forcing against Sam's own lax one.

Sam ran his hands up Dean's back, raising his hips slightly, meeting him but there was no way he was going to open up and let Dean fuck him. He had stopped that on his 'return' from Stanford. It had taken a while before he had let Dean anywhere near him and his brother had backed off, thinking it was Sam's mourning for Jessica and, in a way, it was. More though, Sam was not willing to just fall back into old habits, no matter how easy hunting came back to him.

But on seeing how Dean was hurting, missing their father so much more than he ever had and then, when he had been physically hurt, Sam had gone to him to comfort him and Dean had reached for him in so many ways. So Sam had become his brother's lover once more but would not 'lie back and take it' as he used to. Not that Dean had ever treated him as anything other than an equal, a partner. Dean had never used Sam as Sam now took his brother.

He thought of the passion that Dean had always shown him and he kissed him the harder for it, grasping at the muscular back, pulling him down, actually enjoying the weight on top of him, the sensation of being pinned down.

The feel of Sam's lips was wondrous to Dean. It always had been and now this true intimacy was so rare. Pushing himself slowly onto Sam, Dean hesitated then tried to ease Sam's legs open. He had let him come this far, had given him more than in recent memory and wondered briefly if Sam might be willing to give him what he had missed since the day his brother had gotten on that bus to Pal Alto.

Of course he would love to fuck Sammy as he had used to do but it wasn't that now. Now he wanted so much to make love to Sam. To be tender and to try to make him understand just how much he meant to him, how much Dean loved his younger brother. And he did even with the pain burning him inside which he could not quite push from his mind as he continued to kiss Sam deeply, barely remembering to breathe. It had been bad this time so just maybe?

Sam broke the kiss, pulling his head away and to the side, breathing deeply, dragging in air as he studied Dean from accusing eyes. He had stilled also but, held up on his arms again, Dean was tense and if it had not been for that look in his eyes, Sam thought he would have thrown his brother off for his impertinence.

How had it really come to this, that he was here, practically shaking for fear that he had done something to offend Sam? His brother was looking up at him in that considering way, deciding Dean's immediate fate and he could not stand to see it anymore. He had a brief fantasy of just climbing off Sam and walking away but knew he was not that strong. Dean looked down defeated and abashed and waited, not daring to move, especially his hips which were yearning to work against Sam's.

It was adorable, Sam could think of no other word to describe the attitude, the set of Dean's shoulders, holding him up, putting pressure onto his prick but still seeming 'slumped' in defeat. He dragged his hands across Dean's back, digging in his nails then up his sides, seeing the slight wince then he put two fingers to Dean's lips, pressing them, his thumb tilting his chin up and, as the eyes refused to follow remaining downcast, Sam hardened once more.

Dean could feel the renewed interest against him and swallowed, praying Sam did not want to take him again. He thought he would tear him asunder if he did but then Sam pushed his fingers into his mouth and he looked at Sam, making sure he understood and then knew what to do. But a small rebellion flared within Dean. If he had to go down on Sam, for the second time, so be it, but he was going to take his time and turn it to a love making and if that did not meet with the others approval, then, so be that too. He was going to make love to Sam, if not in the way he would have preferred.

Sam saw the smallest spark of defiance in those beautiful eyes and a cruel smile shaped his lips but Dean missed it as he ducked his head to kiss Sam's neck, relaxing his arms and slowly, tenderly working his way across Sam's chest, nipping, sucking gently then being emboldened, catching a nipple between his lips, pulling gently and, feeling a hand in his hair, was encouraged and sucked it hard, nibbling with his teeth, his hands holding onto Sam's slimmer sides.

Sam stretched, his hands high above his head, back arching, pushing himself onto Dean's teeth. He still dreamt sometimes of when he was a teenager and Dean would fuck him hard like he begged him to. Maybe he could let him again just this once? Probably should but, no, that might give him the wrong idea, tipping the balance, altering the status quo and Sam liked it just the way it was. But Dean had lost none of his skill, he still knew how to drive him to distraction and Sam's legs did open as Dean continued to work across his chest, causing his whole body to lift from the bed, pushing up as Dean moved down to lie between his thighs, hands gripping his sides tightly.

Why could it not always be like this? Stop thinking and just enjoy, Dean told himself. It was wonderful how Sam was responding to him as he licked down the centre of his chest, over his stomach then pausing to play with his navel. Spreading his fingers out on Sam's hips, he knelt back and nuzzled in the hairs leading down the tight belly. Sam's knees bent, his legs rising up as his brother's face rubbed against his erect prick, teeth tugging gently at those leading hairs and Dean wrapped his arms around them, palms on Sam's hips, fingers spread digging into that flat belly.

He was driving him crazy. Sam so wanted to grab his brother's head and make him get on with it whilst still appreciating the attentions. His own head went back, forced into the pillow and he screwed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, hands pushing at the wall to keep them off Dean and, as he felt Dean's tongue finally licking at the root of his prick, his body arched up once again, heels digging into the bed.

Dean took the opportunity to circle a hand around under Sam's buttock. It was so firm and tight, fitting just right in his hand, his other still pressing down on Sam's belly but with fingers spreading either side of the hard prick as he continued with his nipping, licking and kissing, working his way along to the weeping head. Sam was mumbling something that sounded like a curse as Dean moved his hands once more, kneeling closer and taking the tip of Sam's prick into his mouth.

Dean's hands were on his inner thighs pushing down as the hot mouth took him in but only to half his length. Sam cursed again, calling Dean names through his clenched teeth, knowing he would not be able to hear as Sam's legs fought the 'hint' and he closed them, bringing them up and over Dean's shoulders causing the hands to move again to cradle his ass, fingers squeezing. Sam's fist hit the wall at his brother's teasing. Tantalising, caressing with his tongue, with his lips, softly sucking when all Sam wanted was Dean to take him whole, to work him.

His hips rose up trying to force himself deeper but, while Dean was still 'in control', he set his own pace, enjoying the feel of Sam bucking under his ministrations, knowing that he was the cause of the swearing and another thump into the wall. Sam was controlling himself, leaving Dean to do as he wanted and it warmed him, giving him hope of a return to a more equal sex life.

Heels dug into his back and he took it as a hint, for Sam had never been patient, and he began to truly 'go to town' on him, loving the frantic twisting and panting he was causing. Dean's hands grasped those tense buttocks hard and his fingertips slipped into the divide, finding and pressing at Sam's arsehole but, even now, lost in his actions, not daring to force an entry. He did not want to be stopped.

Damn he was going to pay for this! If Dean did not make him cum soon, Sam was going to kill him. His hand moved to the back of Dean's head, time up. And finally, with one of his hands moving around and throwing off Sam's leg, the other moving to hold tightly to his thigh, Dean took him in deep and Sam was shooting down his throat, grunting out, cursing Dean, once more calling him 'bastard' for making him feel so weak. Sam collapsed back to the bed exhausted to have Dean clean him, making him shudder again and then was still.

Dean let him go, still kneeling between the long relaxed legs. He wiped his mouth staring at Sam, taking in the image of him lying there, post orgasm, holding the sight in his mind, not remembering the last time he had appeared like this, hoping that he would be able to keep the memory as perfect as the sight now. Before Sam 'came back', he knelt forwards, hands holding him up and leant down to kiss him lightly on his cheek, on his jaw, by his mouth causing him to lick his lips and turn his head towards him, eyes hooded.

Sam's body was relaxed and he almost felt at peace but not quite. That only happened after he 'ravished' the other. He looked up into those so beautiful green eyes, lit up from within brighter than the sun streaming through the netted window. Sam knew exactly what to do, how to play Dean from long experience. He simply smiled up at him and did not object as Dean laid against him, his semi hard prick picking up intensity as he pushed it slowly and repeatedly against Sam's belly so he could reach his mouth, kissing him. Sam kissed him back, hand languidly playing at the base of his skull, tasting himself in Dean's mouth, allowing him this concession, knowing that he would not take long.

Dean came far too soon but not surprisingly and slumped down to Sam's side, still half across him, his eyes closed, licking his lips. Head on Sam's chest, he listened to the slowing heart beat and it soon soothed him to an exhausted sleep.

Sam let him lie as he stared up, hand playing unconsciously with Dean's hair. He smiled to himself, after this, the next time he felt that build up, he would have Dean begging for him. His expression changed. Sam did not know what he had become plotting like this, hurting Dean so much then using sex still as an apology. He could, would, never say sorry, this would have to do. But it was worth the effort because there was no way that Dean was going to leave him, not now. He had worried for a while but was certain he had just pushed that breaking point much further back.

Staring down at the sleeping head, Sam then lifted his free arm to inspect the hand that had hit the wall repeatedly whilst in a fist. It was red, scraped raw and would no doubt swell and bruise. He flexed the hand and, as he formed a fist, a secret smile twisted his lips.

Sam knew exactly how Dean was going to pay for the injury.

-== end== -


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